


Broken

by DavineNaughter



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: (not sorry), Angst, Crying, Drinking, M/M, Swearing, angstiest thing I've written, angsty, break up situation, haha - Freeform, sorry - Freeform, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8178004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DavineNaughter/pseuds/DavineNaughter
Summary: But the trouble is, when everything is made from glass it's bound to shatter. Broken promises, broken trust, broken dreams, broken people. Sharp edges keeping us from picking back up the pieces.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this 1:20am-3:00am then revised it once I woke up I have no idea where it came from  
> More spontaneous writing I guess

"So what now?"

"I don't know. It can't just end like this," I say, though the words make me want to vomit nearly as much as the question I don't have the answer to. After all, he was always my answer, so what do I do when he starts asking the question?

"But Dan," Phil says with a pained voice, "it can't last forever."

We are sat in probably the most uncomfortable place in the whole flat, sat on the floor leaning back against the sofa in the lounge. I can't bring myself to get comfy when I want to scream and cry and whine like a baby. Just beg him to stay. I aggressively wipe at my cheek where another tear begins to fall down it and take another swig from the bottle in my hand.

"Dan, don't drink so much. It's not good for you. It'll just make it worse," Phil pleads with me, looking at me with those sad, helpless eyes that look like they're about to leak as well.

"Really? You think this could possibly get worse?" I ask, scoffing at the very thought. His eyes narrow.

"I'm just trying to help Dan. All I ever do is try to help," he snaps at me, causing me to look away sheepishly.

How did we end up like this? Just a few years ago, a few months ago even, we had everything. We had a romance from the fairy tales, got our lucky breaks, and were happy as shit all the time. Well, at least we were able to make it look like that.

"I know, Phil, I'm sorry," I say, but I've said it so much it doesn't mean anything anymore. Sorry doesn't fix it.

I guess we were never perfect. I had always been a sort of fuckup, never quite being able to handle my own thoughts. I always made jokes about my "existential crises" online, but in reality they weren't so much relatable periods of questioning existence. Every now and again, I would just lose myself. I couldn't smile, because the world had me strapped down where I was. I couldn't move a muscle. I was never good enough, the world was cruel. Nothing in particular ever set it off; it was always lurking, just getting ready to attack me again. I was grey. I was rain.

"I'm just out of ideas, Dan. How do you want to make this work? It doesn't work anymore," Phil says, that familiar hollowness in his voice.

But then I met Phil, who was as sunny as a person got. He was older than me, and he convinced me he knew what he was doing. Every time one of these episodes would occur, he knew just what to do to help me get over it. He didn't get mad, he didn't try to yell at me to just be happy like everyone else always did. Phil just came and sat with me and didn't bother with pointless words we both knew wouldn't help. He convinced me I could leave uni, he convinced me I could try to do something I loved and it would be fine.

"Phil, we were so perfect. Something like that doesn't just go away," I say, though I honestly don't know who I'm trying to convince at this point, Phil or myself. Or both of us.

And he liked me. Phil Lester /liked/ me. No one else ever really liked me as much as he did, and even though I'll never know why he did, it changed my life. Phil seemed genuinely happy to spend time with me and help me. Whenever I smiled a bit his entire face would light up like the stars, so I started smiling more just to see that miracle of a smile he had.

"We were never perfect, Dan. You know that," Phil replies. "We've always had a lot of problems. Now it's just too many."

He loved me. Phil still does love me, I think. But he's always been my everything, right from the start. The answer to every question, the rhyme to every poem, the light in all the darkness. I think for a little while I was his everything too. I mean, just look at YouTube. We made a brand together. It makes me cringe to think that that may be all Dan and Phil is anymore: some stupid meaningless phrase a few teenage girls might buy on a t-shirt. Because Dan and Phil used to be my whole life. Dan and Phil was the first thing that made me feel happy and secure. Those little episodes of mine got less frequent. I didn't drink as much.

I take another gulp of my drink. "No, Phil, it can't be too much. We can work through it, I know we can. We're Dan and Phil. We're supposed to figure it out."

I want to fucking kiss him. It's my go to response. If I hurt, Phil's lips against mine make it better. It reassures me that he's there. When nothing else is okay, Phil is there for me. It practically stings to know that's not an option right now.

His hands go up to rub his temples. "Dan, please just stop fucking drinking so much. You want to find a solution? Fine. Act like it. You're not eighteen anymore," Phil practically spits. I'm taken aback.

But now Phil is what isn't okay. I think I broke Phil, and that's what hurts the most. I don't get to see that sun and stars smile anymore, he just looks tired and monochrome. Like me.

I don't know what happened. I really don't.

/Fuck it./ I let all my tears flow free. I can't hold back my sobs any longer. The liquor's getting caught on the lump in my throat.

"I'm sorry Phil. I'm so sorry for everything. I know I'm a piece of shit, and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry," I hiccup, stuttering and blubbering the whole way through.

Phil just sighs. "Dan, don't."

"But it's true!" I insist through my tears. I'm practically hysteric now. I can feel myself slipping through his fingers. "You're the one that always picks me up when I'm down. You keep my shit together. That must be exhausting to have to deal-"

"I said don't," Phil shouts at me. I jump a little and stop talking, trying to cry as quietly as possible. "Pass me the bottle." I do as I'm told.

For a while we were so happy with everything. Our relationship was so happy and light when I was less sad. Our careers were taking off. We moved to London, and that's the time when everything seemed like a movie.

We sit there for hours like that, silently passing this bottle (and the one after that) between us. At random intervals we cry and blurt out semi coherent fragments that are left without reply. My throat is raw and I can barely even sit up when Phil stands.

But then we started doing more. We had our own YouTube channels. We had the show with BBC. We made a gaming channel. We wrote a book and decided to make a tour. I got stressed, and lazy, and Phil had to start carrying me again. He did more than his fair share of the work. It was supposed to be half and half. He had to yell at my sorry arse to work so much we didn't really have time to be a couple. I was sad again. But the episodes got more frequent because this time I was dragging Phil down with me when he was all I was using to stay afloat. 

"You know what, fuck this," he says, wobbling and falling against the couch in his attempts to stand. When he finally manages, he walks across the room a bit and turns back to where I'm frozen with wide eyes on the floor. "We're getting nowhere. We can't fix it. It's over, and we're just delaying it," Phil says, choking over his own words and wiping the tears off his face. I just gawk at him.

I don't know where it all went wrong. Something must've snapped, because here we were, not being able to keep it together anymore.

Phil turns around and starts to walk while I just stare, my slow brain not processing what is happening until he's at the door. 

Have you ever admired glass sculptures? The different colours naturally gelling together, the clear crystal you see in the displays at fancy shops. They're beautiful, really. So we built everything from glass. The colours blended, it gelled, it was shaped so carefully. It was beautiful. But the trouble is, when everything is made from glass it's bound to shatter. Broken promises, broken trust, broken dreams, broken people. Sharp edges keeping us from picking back up the pieces.

"Don't you dare walk away from this," I call loudly across the room. Phil stops in his tracks and turns around. It's his turn to stare at me in awe. I awkwardly manoeuvre myself up and across the room to meet him, eyes narrowed angrily. "Fuck you, Phil Lester. You cannot just throw this away. I will not let you just walk away from me-from us-that easy."

For a moment he just stares blankly at me, and then his eyes narrow as well. Before I know it we're chest to chest, glaring at each other.

"Fuck. You," Phil says simply, and I nearly start crying again. Phil never swears, let alone at me. "It's not /our/ life, Dan. This is /my/ life, and I get to do whatever the hell I want. You can't tell me what to do."

I'm about to retort when my knees give out, and I fall forwards. Phil catches me, and by the time we both look back at each other we're both crying again, anger still present.

We end up back next to the couch somehow, only this time I'm leaning my head on his shoulder. Only pitch darkness is coming in through the open blinds. It must be three am when we sit down. Eventually-after what feels like forever-we stop crying, both just staring blankly forwards.

"Please don't leave me," I whisper to Phil.

"I can't stay, Dan," he whispers back, and I find I'm all dried out of tears.

"But I need you. You said you were leaving because it's your life, not ours. Well for me it's ours. I don't have one on my own. You have a degree, you're a happy person, you have things you can do. Without you I have nothing," I reply, only getting quieter as I go on.

I hear him let out another choked sob above me, and merely sigh. I am completely drained of energy. "I don't know if I can do it Dan. I'm sorry. I promised you I'd be the person that would help you, that would lift you up, that would keep you together. I promised myself I'd make you happier and keep you that way. But I can't anymore, I'm just too tired. I'm sorry, I failed you. I failed me. I failed /us/," Phil says through sobs, and with every word my heart breaks more.

"But I don't think I can do it without you," I squeak, words getting stuck on the emotion clogging my oesophagus.

"But I can't do it anymore," he says, and the words hung in the air. We sit there like that in silence again for the longest time, Phil's fingers running through my greasy fringe.

I hear birds chirping. I guess it's tomorrow now. Phil seems to hear it too, because he goes to move. I hug on tightly to him, and he sighs above me. I look up to see him grabbing at his face, running his hands stressfully down it.

"Dan, please let me go," he croaks, voice starting to be affected by all of the emotion, alcohol, and disuse.

"Phil, please, we can work something out," I beg, but let him go anyways. He doesn't move this time.

"Like what, Dan?" Phil asks. There's something in that phrase, a tone of finality, that terrifies me. If I don't have an answer this time, I can't save it. He will leave. I know he will. Thoughts trudge through my head, and I desperately try to find a good one to hold onto and blurt.

"Just stay for tonight," I finally breathe out. He just looks at me, looking tired.

"Yeah, what then? What tomorrow?" he asks, sounding as tired as he looks. I'm sure I look about the same.

"Tomorrow, we deal with these horrendous hangovers we'll have. Then the day after that maybe we'll talk again. Or maybe not. If we just take it one day at a time, maybe we can start just living again," I say, pouring all of my last hopes into the remark. This is it, I can tell. I wait with baited breath to see how Phil responds. He looks like he's about to cry again, and I resist the urge to kiss it better. That would most definitely not help the situation. "Just please give me tomorrow."

Phil's face goes through a lot of emotions, but I'm far too drunk, tired, and nervous to decipher them. At the end of the little roller coaster, his face looks sad. Phil looks so sad, and my heart hurts. I know in that moment that if he tried to go again I wouldn't stop him. I can't bear to make him that sad ever.

"Okay," is all he eventually says, and I almost start crying again in relief, one last dry sob ripping itself from my throat. "Day by day. Maybe we'll fix it. Maybe we won't. But right now I just need to sleep," Phil finishes, and despite how uncertain everything is, there's a certain comfort in hearing the plan coming from Phil.

"Okay," I say, and we both manage to drag each other up and back into our bedroom. The one with green and blue sheets that everyone knows as Phil's but I've been sleeping in for years. When we were choosing where to sleep I made sure to get the lighter, happier place. It always made me feel warm. Now we both unceremoniously flop onto it, not bothering with blankets. The chill feels good. Grogginess takes over. 

"I really hope we can fix it," I mumble as a final thought before I drift off, but Phil's already asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK, IVE NEVER REALLY WRITTEN LIKE THIS BEFORE AND WOULD LOVE TO HEAR WHAT I DID POORLY AND WELL. COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED.  
> Alright, don't ask me where this came from. I started writing the next Maths Notes chapter last night, honest. But then I got this thought and just went with it. Haven't done something this spontaneous since Shadows' Dance. And I mean that worked out pretty well, one of my favourite authors on Tumblr reblogged it. (When I had a typo in the bloody title, haha rip me).  
> But yeah  
> This exists now  
> I wrote this in the middle of the night and showed it to know one then revised it when I woke up.  
> Hope it's good  
> Hope it makes sense  
> Tell me what you thought  
> I would REALLY appreciate feedback  
> Hope you enjoyed :)  
> (Also shoutout to Sarah who has been emailing me because she found me here, you're so sweet luv ya girl)


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